


You're Marvelous

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eliot is accidentally a prick, M/M, Smut, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: Eliot makes a startling discovery about his new lover; Quentin isn’t happy with his response.





	You're Marvelous

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own The Magicians, they own me. This fic is for the Neitherlands Library Challenge: Topic/Boys, subtopic/Eliot Waugh. Comments and kudos are love! Enjoy.

You’re Marvelous

By Lexalicious70 (TheChampagneKing70)

 

In retrospect, Eliot realized that the worst thing he could have done was to laugh.

 

But it had all been so _ridiculous_ . . . him and Quentin making out, _really_ making out, for the first time since they’d gotten together a month earlier, Quentin’s skin smooth under Eliot’s fingers, the younger magician muttering “Please, please,” against Eliot’s neck, his lips warm and moist with wine, and Eliot had pulled Quentin’s sweater off and then undid those shapeless jeans the kid was so fond of, and then . . .

 

“Are you still up here pouting?”

 

Eliot glanced up to see Margo standing in his doorway, her hands on her hips.

 

“I’m not pouting! I’m—I’m assessing my situation.” He said, and Margo stepped inside.

 

“Uh huh. And you’ve been ‘assessing’ for a week now.” She frowned as she kicked aside an empty merlot bottle. “For Christ Sake El . . . just go talk to him!”

 

“I’ve tried!”

 

“You’ve been dating a month, it’s your first argument—over something stupid, I might add—”

 

“That’s what I tried to tell him!”

 

Margo sighed and sat down on the bed as Eliot gave a drawn-out groan and fell back, his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his dark curls.

 

“Okay. Let’s start from the beginning. So you were making out, and . . .”

 

_One Week Earlier_

“Eliot . . . Eliot please, please . . .” Quentin groaned against Eliot’s neck as the older magician’s long, clever fingers slid up under his sweater and teased his nipples into hardness before tugging the fraying garment off completely. Quentin’s hips lifted slightly as Eliot’s hands went to the button fly of his jeans and undid them with eagerness. Eliot could tell by Quentin’s flinching and quivering that he’d never been this far with another guy before, and he wondered fleetingly if Alice had ever given him a blow job. He worked Quentin’s jeans down over his thighs, glanced down, and burst into laughter. Quentin jerked back, his dark eyes widening in surprise.

 

“What—what’s so funny?”

 

“Quentin, what on earth are you wearing?” Eliot asked in between giggles, and Quentin’s cheeks flushed rose as he glanced down at his boxers. The Incredible Hulk raged across a black background, in a variety of poses.

 

“Boxer shorts?”

 

“There’s cartoons on them!” Eliot peered closer. “The Incredulous Hulk?”

 

“It’s the _Incredible_ Hulk! He—he’s my favorite Marvel character.”

 

“And I’m marveling over the fact that you’d own these at all, much less wear them on a date!”

 

“I didn’t think we—I don’t—you—” A moment later Quentin was climbing off the bed, trying to reach for his sweater and button his jeans at the same time. Eliot blinked as his body tried to reverse its blood flow from south to north.

 

“Quentin! Wait, where are you going?”

 

“Out. Away!” The door slammed a moment later, leaving Eliot alone on the bed.

 

______________________________________

 

“God, El. You might as well have viciously embarrassed an awkward teenager at her sweet sixteen party!”  Margo sighed once Eliot was done speaking.

 

“I know, all right? I—I’ve just never seen a grown man in superhero underwear before! It caught me off guard!”

 

“So now he’s embarrassed and likely thinks he’s not good enough for you. What are you going to do?” She asked, and Eliot sat up.

 

“I’m going to go shopping.”

“Shopping? How will that help?”

 

“I don’t know if it will.” Eliot moved off the bed. “Bambi . . . will you help me?”

 

Margo looked up at him, her painted nails tapping against her thigh in thought.

 

“Okay.” She said at last. “But you better give me an explanation on the way!”

 

__________________________________________

 

“What are doing here? You made your opinion of me pretty clear the last time we were together!”

 

Eliot stuck out his foot and part of one leg into the doorframe of Quentin’s room before the younger magician could slam the door in his face.

 

“Quentin! Wait . . . just listen to me a minute, okay? Give me five minutes of your time, and then if you want to kick me out and never speak to me again

 

( _like I could ever live with that_ )

 

I’ll understand and I’ll never bother you again!”

 

Quentin glanced away, his face flushed with emotion, and then he stepped backward to wordlessly allow Eliot entrance. Eliot slipped inside and then shut the door behind him. Quentin stood there, his arms folded over his chest, not looking at him.

 

“Quentin—”

 

“Four minutes and thirty seconds. You better talk faster.”

 

“Okay look, I realize that I may have hurt your feelings the last time we were together. I laughed at you, I may have made you feel humiliated—”

 

“ _May_ have?”

 

“All right, more than may have!” Eliot loosened his tie and pulled it off. “But if you think I think I’m better than you because of this—”

 

“That’s exactly what I think! Because you laughed at me! Poor Q, Sad little man-child in his cartoon underwear! We don’t have anything in common, Eliot! How is this going to work if that’s the case?”

 

“Maybe we don’t right now. But we could learn from each other. I can teach you about fine foods and wine and all about life’s pleasures . . .”

 

Quentin closed his eyes a moment before turning to face Eliot directly.

 

“And what can I teach you?” He asked.

 

“Maybe how to appreciate whimsy now and again.” He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his good shirt and Quentin frowned as it revealed something underneath, a glimpse of red. He stepped forward, his curiosity tamping down his anger, and undid a few more buttons. Curiosity then shifted to awe as he unbuttoned Eliot’s shirt all the way to reveal a form-fitting Flash tee shirt. It barely covered the lower portion of Eliot’s long torso. Quentin looked up at him.

 

“Eliot . . .?”

 

Eliot tugged off his dress shirt the rest of the way to reveal how the undershirt hugged the contours of his biceps, lean and toned from hours of casting. As Quentin watched, unable to stop staring, Eliot tugged off his shoes, then undid and dropped his trousers to reveal that he was wearing nothing underneath but a very snug pair of matching briefs—fire-engine red banded with yellow at the top—and Quentin put a hand to his mouth. After a moment, he found his voice.

 

“Eliot, are those . . .?”

 

“Underoos.” Eliot nodded. “I had to go to three different stores in Manhattan to find a set that fit, but I finally got lucky at this pop culture place near Times Square. Margo helped.”

 

“You—they’re—wow.” Quentin managed, then pushed his hair back with one hand. “But why?”

 

“I guess to apologize? And to give you a chance to laugh at me. I know I look ridiculous, so!” He spread his long arms out. “Go ahead, Quentin. Give it your best shot.”

 

“Hmmm.” Quentin’s brow furrowed and he circled Eliot with purposeful steps. “I think we have a problem though.”

 

“What’s that?” Eliot asked, and Quentin completed the circle before looking up at the taller man.

 

“You don’t look ridiculous at all. In fact, I think this is—it’s—it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!” Quentin finally blurted out, and Eliot blinked down at him.

 

“You’re serious.”

 

“I’m serious.” Quentin’s hands splayed out across Eliot’s chest, his fingers tracing the outline of the lightning bolt. “And you went all over Manhattan looking for these just for me?”

 

“I did.” Eliot nodded, gasping a little as Quentin’s finger found a nipple through the cotton material and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. “I wanted to offer a gesture of apology—God, Q.” Eliot groaned softly, and Quentin stepped closer.

 

“You’re forgiven.” He murmured, and Eliot shivered as Quentin’s tongue and teeth started to worry and lick his nipple through the thin material. The sensations shot straight to Eliot’s cock, which started to stir and twitch. Eliot stroked Quentin’s hair, pushing back the long, tawny brown tresses, the long muscles in his inner thighs quivering as Quentin’s right hand slid down to cup his growing erection.

 

“Bed.” Eliot managed to say, and a moment later they were falling across the mattress. Quentin tugged off his sweater, getting momentarily tangled in his excitement before tossing it over his shoulder and throwing a leg over Eliot’s lean thighs until their groins touched. Eliot stared up at his lover.

 

“So. What are you wearing under those old jeans?” He grinned, and Quentin leaned over to whisper in Eliot’s ear.

 

“I bought something for you, too.” He undid his jeans and slid them down to reveal a new pair of silk boxer briefs—dark blue with small white pinpoints. Eliot reached out to skate his fingers across the fine material.

 

“Are those—?”

 

“Calvin Klein.” Quentin nodded. “They cost forty dollars.”

 

Eliot grinned and tugged Quentin down for a kiss as Quentin squirmed out his jeans the rest of the way. Once they were out of the way, Quentin positioned himself so their groins touched and then began to rock and shift against Eliot’s erection. Eliot moaned, the sensations so delicious they made tingles race up his spine and spread out across his body until his nipples peaked and his throat worked. Quentin pulled his legs up under him and braced his hands against Eliot’s shoulders so he could lean over to kiss him while he bobbed and rubbed, and Eliot finally whimpered against his lips.

 

“Please, Q!”

 

Quentin pulled back, grinning, and slid his fingers under Eliot’s tight tee, tugging upward and off.

 

“Let’s hope the fastest man alive isn’t too fast!” He teased before crawling backwards. Eliot watched, then his back arched in pleasure as Quentin breathed against his erection before nuzzling and kissing it through the material. It was the first time his lover had ever made contact with his cock and Eliot’s head spun with sensation and happiness. He spread his thighs and Quentin slid both hands under Eliot’s ass, squeezing and lifting him into wet, smacking kisses until the surface of the briefs were wet with both saliva and Eliot’s precum.

 

“Fuck!” Eliot groaned, and Quentin pulled back long enough to skim off the briefs and his own boxers. He wrapped his right hand in the red briefs and his left hand in the silk boxer briefs, and Eliot watched, breathing hard, his amber eyes wide, as Quentin started to jerk him off with the silk briefs while he jacked his own erection with the cotton ones. Eliot trembled and reached down to cover Quentin’s hand with his own, guiding him as the invisible string of climax began to tighten in his groin and vibrate in his lower belly. “That’s it, Q . . . fuck, yes . . . make me come!” He moaned, and Quentin matched those strokes with his own.

 

“So good, El. So good, getting close . . .” Quentin’s dark eyes gleamed and then he leaned back, his long lashes sweeping down as his chin tilted upward, exposing his pale throat. “Oh . . . God!” He choked out as he came, and the sight of him coming all over the briefs and his own hand was too much for Eliot. He shuddered and spurted against Quentin’s pumping hand, soaking it and the silk boxer briefs. The pulses threatened to tilt Eliot off the edge of the world and he gave a wavering cry before they finally subsided. His lean frame flushed and he sighed at the resulting warm as his muscles finally relaxed. A moment later Quentin thumped down beside him, also flushed and grinning.

 

“Wow.” He sighed, dropping the underwear to the floor, and Eliot slipped an arm around him.

 

“Wow is right.”

 

Silence spun out for a few minutes and then Quentin spoke up quietly.

 

“Do you know why I wear superhero underwear?”

 

Eliot stroked his hair.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“I don’t feel strong a lot of the time, El. Even as a magician. I wasn’t born with much emotional armor at all. Wearing the underwear . . . it makes me feel—well—a little more protected. It’s a reminder that a lot of superheroes don’t look tough on the outside . . . that it’s what underneath that makes them strong.”

 

“Oh Q.” Eliot turned and kissed his temple. “You’re stronger than you think! But I understand. And I am truly sorry I laughed at them.”

 

“It’s okay.” Quentin raised his head. “Just do me one favor?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Take me shopping at that store in Manhattan?”

 

Eliot grinned and pulled his lover close.

 

“It’d be my pleasure, Q.”

 

_Fin_

 


End file.
